


Better Late than Never

by Kacka



Series: We're On a Boat [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Bellamy didn't exactly think Clarke was all talk when she said she'd look him up if she ever moved back, but he's delighted when she follows through.





	Better Late than Never

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like this part of the story didn't fit in a fic with the cruise part as well. Also, I really like that dynamic of the almost love, so here we are.
> 
> Also if you haven't read part one you'll probably understand this? But some things are better explained if you read the other one first.

**Princess:** So hypothetically  
If I were looking for an apartment in the Chicago area  
Would you know any good neighborhoods?

Bellamy wets his lips and looks around his empty apartment. He’s not sure why. Maybe he’s subconsciously checking for hidden cameras, for Ashton Kutcher to jump out with some sort of ‘gotcha’ moment. Or maybe he’s hoping to find someone who can validate that yes, this string of text messages implies what he thinks it implies, that he’s not imagining it, no matter how long he’s looked forward to such a text from Clarke.

The only other living thing in his apartment is his cat Selina, and as far as he knows she hasn’t mastered the art of human language, so he rereads the texts a few times, then lets his thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment before finally replying.

 _I might have some suggestions_ , he says, in an attempt to play it cool. But that doesn’t last, because he immediately follows it up with, _Is this really a hypothetical?_

 _I like Portland_ , she types back, and his stomach sinks until she adds, _But I’m not cool enough to live here much longer._

He bites his lip, wondering how he can determine whether they’re on the same page.

Last time he thought they were on the same page, she’d shut him down nicely but firmly. After all that went down on the cruise-- the fake Facebook wedding, the friendly teasing, the ridiculous scheming, the _kiss_ \-- he’d been willing to at least try long-distance. He always liked Clarke, those last few days had proven that they got along well, and he knew from experience with O that Skype and plane rides were enough to get by on for a while.

He has to admit, she probably made the right call, telling him she didn’t think she could do it. He was a little bit tipsy, a little bit drunk on sun and _her_ , and as they’ve kept in touch in small ways over the past couple of years, he’s come to realize it might not have worked. It might have been too much pressure on a relationship that was so unested.

They’d agreed maybe one day, and while he always intended to hold her to that if the opportunity presented itself, he hasn't been pining over her. He remembers her fondly, misses her enough to make sure he keeps up to date on her life, still grins at his phone when she snapchats him selfies with all the weird filters. But he’s dated other people and he knows she has too. It didn’t feel certain that anything would ever happen between them.

But now she’s moving back, and it’s-- he doesn’t know what it is. He can’t quite wrap his mind around it.

It’s not like he thought she’d never leave Portland, but he knows how hard it is to build a life from the ground up. To learn a new city, cultivate a new friend group, find new communities to get involved in. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Clarke had wanted to stay in Oregon, or even move back to New York, where she grew up. If anyone had nearly unlimited options, it would be Clarke Griffin.

Instead, she’s choosing to move back to the area where they did their undergrad, the area Bellamy still lives in as he finishes his master’s program. He knows she’s not moving there for him, but it would be nice if she considered him an extra enticement.

He’s trying to figure out a response when the little gray dots pop up again.

_I miss the Midwest._

He smiles, giddy, and hopes that he’s not reading too much into the sentiment. He nearly types something along the lines of, _the Midwest misses you too_ , but he can’t bring himself to be that sappy, so instead he types a quick, instinctive response before he can overthink it.

 **Bellamy:** Then yeah, I’ve got tons of suggestions  
Including places you could get dinner  
Or coffee  
Or see movies  
I know all the places

At that point, he throws his phone across the couch before he can keep babbling. It feels like too much, now that he’s sent it, but his phone buzzes again quickly, and he scrambles for it.

 **Princess:** Sounds like I should spend a lot of time with you

He grins.

 **Bellamy:** I was gonna say

He’s trying to figure out what to type next when his phone rings, Clarke’s contact picture popping up on his screen. It’s the first snapchat selfie she ever sent him, one he screenshotted before he knew they’d become a semi-regular occurrence. She’s got a flower crown and cartoonishly big eyes, and she’s giving the camera the middle finger. It’s one of his favorites she’s ever sent.

“So how much is rent in the city? I’ve been thinking I might want to live in one of the suburbs.”

“Hello to you, too,” he teases, leaning back and settling in. Selina emerges from his bedroom, curious like she usually is when she hears his voice.

“Hi Bellamy,” Clarke says, exasperated, and even just hearing her voice fills something in him he didn’t know was empty. “Naperville is a good area right? They’ve got a cute downtown.”

“I don’t go over there much, but yeah, I think it’s pretty nice. Good running paths.”

“Know your audience.”

“Good breakfast places too.”

“There you go.”

He grins. “I have a few links I can send you, as far as apartment complexes go, but they’re all grad student stuff. Closer to the universities, cheaper, not quite as nice as what you might prefer.”

“But I’d have neighbors my age who know cool stuff to do. And--” She hesitates. “I’d probably be closer to you, right?”

His smile is stupidly wide now. “That is one of the perks. Most realtors are starting to use that as a selling point, actually: proximity to Bellamy Blake.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to make it easier to appropriate your friend group.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. When do you move?”

“I gave Roan my two weeks’ notice yesterday.”

“Two weeks?” He repeats, startled. Selina glares at him, miffed that he’d jolted her off his knee. He scratches her ears in apology. “That soon?”

“I got a job offer and they want me to start right away.”

“Wow.” He pauses, letting it sink in. “So this is a for sure thing.”

“Yep, it’s definite. So I need to find someplace to live, asap.”

“I’ll send you a list right now,” he says, opening his computer and starting an email. “Tell me about the job.”

By the time the call is winding up, she’s got a few leads on apartments she might like, and he’s more certain than ever that picking up where they left off will be as easy as he ever hoped it would be.

“I should probably go, it’s getting pretty late and I have work in the morning,” she says, notes of regret in her voice.

“Yeah, same.” He pulls at a loose thread in his jeans. “Who’s picking you up from the airport?”

“Uber, probably.”

“I’ve got a car.”

He can almost hear her smirk on the other end, but he doesn’t care if she thinks he’s eager to see her. He’s fairly certain she feels the same way.

“You don’t have to do that, it’s so far. I really can just take a taxi.”

“Or you can pay me if you really want to spend your hard-earned money. But it’s no problem, Clarke. I’m-- I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll let you know,” she says at last, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t even have a flight booked yet.”

“Keep me posted.”

“I will.” There’s silence on the line, and then she says, “I’m really excited to see you.”

“Yeah,” he says, exhaling the last of the tension he was carrying over this. “Me too.”

* * *

“This is the girl you fake-married on that cruise, right?”

“Right.”

“And you didn’t hook up with her because…”

He turns away from his closet to glare at Miller, who is sitting on Bellamy’s bed with Bellamy’s cat purring contentedly in his lap. She loves Miller like she doesn’t love any other visitor he ever gets, and Bellamy can’t quite figure it out.

“I told you, the timing wasn’t right.” Miller gives him a _don’t bullshit me_ face.

“You didn’t have time for a hookup? It’s like twenty minutes. Ten if you’re good.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes and turns back to his closet. “She was moving away. It wouldn’t have been a good time to start something.”

“Wow,” Miller says, genuinely shocked. “So you didn’t sleep with her because you want to _marry_ her. And not in the fake, pissing-off-her-mom way.”

“I want to _date_ her,” Bellamy corrects him. “Wanted. Past tense. I don’t even know if I’m still interested, or if she is.”

“She is,” he says with unnerving confidence. “She looked you up before she even moved back here. She can’t wait to see you.”

“Well I don’t know if I’m still interested, then.”

“Sure. That’s why it’s taking you half an hour to pick out a t-shirt.”

Bellamy wants to protest but knows his friend is right, and pulls out a shirt at random, yanking it over his head. “Don’t hear you complaining about the view.”

“I always appreciate your shirtlessness, dude.”

When he gets up to follow Bellamy out of the room, Selina curls up in the warm spot where he’d been sitting, like the fickle traitor she is.

“You hanging out?” Bellamy asks, gathering his wallet and keys and combing his fingers through his hair one last time. Miller’s roommates are petty and snobbish, and it’s not unusual for Bellamy to come home and either find Miller himself or find evidence he’s been there, hiding out. Come to think of it, that might be why his cat likes him so much.

“You kidding? If the whole airport thing goes well, I don’t want to ruin the mood. And if it doesn’t go well, I don’t want your cat to not cuddle with you. I’m headed to Monty’s.”

“Great. If she says no, you’re coming over tomorrow and letting me beat you at FIFA.”

“Deal.”

He was so worried about traffic-- and about seeing Clarke again-- he gets to the airport almost an hour early. To kill some time, he roots around in his backpack until he finds a page from an old draft of his thesis and a Sharpie, and scrawls (after minor debate), _My Facebook Wife_. Then he finds the place he’s supposed to meet her and messes around on his phone while he tries not to run every worst-case scenario he can think of.

There’s the one where she greets him with disappointment, one where she literally runs away from him, one where she disembarks holding the hand of a girl she just met on the plane and decided is her soulmate.

What he doesn’t prepare himself for is her elation when she finally sees him, or her throwing herself into his arms for a hug.

He staggers back a step and wraps his arms around her, the sign he made crinkling in his hands.

“Glad to see you too.”

“Shut up,” she says, words muffled against his shoulder. “You are glad.”

“I am.” He makes himself let her go, simultaneously wishing he didn’t have to and wanting to commit her face to memory. He didn’t forget what she looked like or anything, but she’s _so much better_ in person. As he knew she would be. “I don’t think I believed you were back for good until just now,” he admits.

“Well, believe it.” Her grin is blinding. “Gonna be hard to get rid of me now, Blake.”

“That’s fine by me.” And then, riding the wave of encouragement brought on by her hug, adds, “Have you eaten?”

“I had a snack before I left, but weird flight times, weird meal times.”

“Good. That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

He scoops up her bag and takes her hand, tugging gently until she follows.

“Yeah?” She asks, delight plain on her face. He smiles helplessly at her.

“I think we’ve waited long enough for this date, don’t you?”

She looks down, but then she adjusts her grip on his hand so she can intertwine their fingers.

“Definitely. And may I say that was a lot smoother than I expected you to be?”

“Me too, honestly.”

He takes them to a burger place he likes and she teases him about his struggle to parallel park even after living in a city for so many years. She tells him about her slightly odd, but generally well-meaning boss in Portland, and he tells her about all the drunk texts and voicemails he’d gotten on the night of Octavia’s twenty-first birthday. It’s almost like no time has passed, except that they’re both a little more sure of themselves than they were fresh out of college.

Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that they’re both flirting more openly than usual, but Bellamy wouldn’t be surprised to find that time has only made Clarke better.

“What’s on the agenda tomorrow?”

She slurps at her milkshake and smirks at him. “Going for a second date so soon?”

“This, coming from the woman who’s been trying to play footsie with me for the past hour.”

Her smirk turns into a smile. “Fair. I don’t have much planned, honestly. I shipped my stuff today, so most of it shouldn’t come for a couple of weeks. I probably need to go grocery shopping and stuff, but that’s it.”

He frowns. “Your bag was pretty small. Do you have any stuff here?”

“Nope.” She bites her lip. “Not even a bed. Yet. I was kind of hoping you’d let me crash at yours tonight.”

His stomach swoops at the thought, but he just nudges her knee with his under the table. “Now who’s skipping ahead?”

She pops a spoonful of milkshake into her mouth and smirks again when his eyes track the motion.

“You said it yourself. I think we’ve waited long enough.”

Despite Clarke having made the move to come home with him, Bellamy still isn’t totally convinced that this is what she wants.

“I can take the couch,” he offers, dropping her bag off in his bedroom. Selina looks up from where she’s laying, curious, then pads into the kitchen to hide from the newcomer.

“Why would you do that?” Clarke says, giving him a look of fond exasperation.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s weird, right? I feel like you spending the night is somewhere between two dates early and two years late.”

“I know what you mean.” She bites her lip. “Obviously I’m not going to make you sleep in a bed with me, or-- do anything else in a bed with me. I like you, and I’m pretty sure I’ll get you in a bed at some point. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Bellamy coughs, trying to cover his ears turning red. From her expression, she hasn’t missed it.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be, uh-- I’d tell you if I was uncomfortable, but that seems pretty unlikely.”

“Well, you seem pretty uncomfortable right now,” she says with a grin. “Why don’t we just-- watch Netflix or something and see how it goes?”

He smiles, relaxing a bit. Trust Clarke to come up with the practical plan. “I think we can manage that.”

After half an episode of Community, Clarke tucks herself into his side and rests her head on his shoulder. It feels natural to put his arm around her, and she relaxes into him when he does, and he tries not to overthink it.

After two more episodes, Selina jumps into his lap, apparently having decided that Clarke has hung around long enough to be vaguely interesting. Clarke laughs and lets the cat sniff her, unoffended when Selina retreats to stretch out along the back of the couch, her tail tickling the back of Bellamy’s neck.

“That means she likes you.”

“What would she have done if she didn’t like me?”

“Hide in the bottom of my closet.” He pauses, thinking. “Although it’s sort of a mess from earlier.”

She draws her head back to look at him. “What was earlier?”

“I had a little bit of a wardrobe crisis before I came to get you,” he admits, smiling a little.

Clarke smiles back, slow and bright and close, and then she’s fisting her hand in his shirt to give herself enough leverage to pull herself up to kiss him. Her lips are soft and lush, just like he remembers them, only this kiss feels more like a hello than a goodbye.

He loses himself in it this time, making it slow and deep, _romantic_ , everything he wishes it could have been two years ago. He’s unable to stop himself from breaking it with a smile when she sighs into his mouth.

“You were holding out on me,” she accuses, shifting so she’s a little more in his lap than before. He lips at her neck, pleased when she shivers.

“I didn’t want to start something I couldn’t finish.”

“That a promise?”

He groans against her collarbone and she laughs, standing and dragging him with her. They only bump into a few walls before he tears himself away and gets them safely to his bedroom, and then she’s bouncing back on the bed like a kid in a mattress store.

“Damn it,” she laughs when his hands brush against her sides. He pulls back to grin at her.  
  
“Ticklish, Princess?”

“No. Well, yes, but-- I was going to let you make the first move this time.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen,” he admits, his hands settling just under her breasts, her skin warm against his. “I would’ve felt like I was taking advantage of you.”

Clarke shakes her head, then rolls them so he’s on his back and she’s straddling his legs, his jeans tighter by the second. “If anything, I’m the one taking advantage. I could be using you for your body, and then for your bed.”

“Should’ve known this was another one of your schemes.”

Her hands slide into his hair, tilting his head so she can mouth along his jaw. “You like my schemes,” she says, and he laughs, finding her lips with his again.

“Out of curiosity,” he mumbles, inching his hands further up under her shirt, playing with the clasp of her bra. “What would you have done if it got time to go to bed and I hadn’t made a move?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to see my tattoo.”

He laughs. “That was your master plan?”

“It’s always worked for me before,” she says, indignant, but there’s a gleam in her eyes. “What, do you _not_ want to see it?”

Bellamy pauses, cocks his head. “No, I do. I definitely do.”

She slides his hand to the button of her jeans. “Then get to work.”

And really, how is he supposed to say no to that?

* * *

The next morning he wakes up with hair in his mouth and a knee pressing against his bladder and his cat curled between him and the wall. When he shifts to comb the blonde strands out of his face, Selina picks her head up and gives him a _look_.

"I know," he huffs. "She stole your spot. You're probably gonna have to get used to it."

"She's definitely going to have to get used to it," Clarke corrects him, burying her face further in his chest. "And you might have to get used to the fact that I am _not_  a morning person."

"I'll add it to your long list of flaws," he teases, kissing her hair and shifting out from under her. "Come on, cat. Let's go make breakfast and let Clarke sleep."

It's less than an hour later before Clarke follows him out, flopping down next to him on the couch and resting her head in his lap. He laughs and mutes the TV.

"Coffee?"

"I'm not waking up yet," she declares, nuzzling his thigh. "I just wanted to sleep next to you a little longer."

His heart feels like it might burst at that, but he just strokes her hair and whispers, "As long as you want."

 

As it turns out, he really means that. Even more than he thinks.


End file.
